Then came Wednesday, the day of Encænia, or Commemoration of the Founders and Benefactors. Who that has ever been present in the crowded Sheldonian Theatre can forget the scene? The jostling, pushing, squeezing that begins before ten o’clock, though the proceedings themselves seldom begin before noon; the pause and quiet, till the boldest undergraduate starts the chaff; the grave faces of the officials as they hand the ladies to their seats, half amused, half angry, when told by some wag in the gallery “not to squeeze her hand;” the cheers for everybody and everything that the occasion suggests—“the ladies in pink,” “the ladies in blue,” “the ladies who are engaged;” the groans for this statesman, the cheers for the other, for the ’Varsity Boat Club, the ’Varsity Eleven, the popular Proctors. Then the chaff becomes more personal. “When is the Vice-Chancellor coming?” “Poor old man, he’s nervous.” “Has the Senior Proctor gone to Aylesbury?” (alluding to the Christ-Church grinds and the Senior Proctor’s failure). “Dissolvimus hanc Convocationem,” uttered in imitation of the Vice-Chancellor, and causing much amusement among the Masters of Arts and others familiar with the phrase. Just then a very white-headed gentleman enters the area, and is met with shouts of “White hat!” “Turn him out!” For a long time the object of the shouts is perfectly oblivious. At length he puts on his hat, and is of course greeted with “Hats off!” How long the uproar would have continued is hard to say, had not a huge paper fool’s-cap, with D.C.L. written on it, been let down from the gallery. The white-headed gentleman blessed the circumstance. The cap fluttering downwards paused, either by accident or design, exactly opposite one of the galleries where a Master of Arts on duty as Proproctor for the occasion was standing, and was waved gently within a few feet of his face. “Put it on, sir!” now came from all sides of the upper gallery; and somebody leaning from above the Vice-Chancellor’s chair, seizing the opportunity of a second’s lull, said in a sedate voice, “Admitto te ad gradum Doctoris in jure civili.” All this time the intended recipient of this most dubious honour was making frantic clutches at the cap, which it is needless to state was bobbed up and down in front of him, while “Let him have it!” “He knows what fits him!” greeted his indignation, which now scarcely knew bounds. He dashed upstairs to find the offender; but, just as his head appeared, the cap dropped into the area, and his efforts to discover the author of the offence were fruitless. The entry of the Vice-Chancellor, followed by the Doctors and Proctors and various distinguished visitors, and the pealing of the organ, turned the thoughts of the undergraduates, and under cover of the music and applause the irate Proproctor beat an ignominious retreat. His conduct was not only unpopular among the undergraduates, but was condemned by senior and junior graduates alike.

The Vice-Chancellor, having taken his seat, opened Convocation with the usual Latin speech. Dr. Bryce, Regius Professor of Civil Law, then presented a number of distinguished men—bishops, judges, statesmen, soldiers, poets, and historians—and in introducing each alluded in brief Latin speeches to the peculiar merits that had called for the honorary degree of D.C.L.—the highest honour which the University can confer. After this the Creweian oration was delivered by the Public Orator; but as he spoke in an indistinct voice, and in Latin, the interesting allusions he made to past and present were scarcely even heard, much less understood. He took the chaff hurled at him with profound good humour, and ignoring the various injunctions to “Speak up,” and “That will do, sir—now translate!” hurried bravely on, and finished amid cheers of satisfaction. Then came the various prize poems and essays, to none of which, except to the Newdigate, was the slightest attention paid. But the Newdigate, though an exceptionally good poem, was badly read, and most of the cheers were ironical—all sorts of absurd constructions being at once fixed upon various lines.

The Masonic Fête on Wednesday afternoon was very delightful, but they were getting tired of the incessant gaiety; and so was the Magdalen concert and Christ-Church ball on Wednesday night; but they had had enough of concerts and enough of dancing, and all their energies and interest were centred in Thursday morning, when Frank was to take his degree—a far important event to Rose than the conferring of honorary D.C.L. on all the bishops, judges, statesmen, and soldiers put together.

It may be convenient here to enumerate roughly Frank’s expenses during his three years’ academical career. It will be remembered that his life has been that of an ordinary undergraduate. Its cost is therefore considerably in excess of that of a great many. It is also considerably below the level of comfort and luxury which in some cases folly induces, and in others is justified by adequate means. He came to Oxford not for intellectual advantages only, nor for social advantages only, but for both. He wished to be neither a spendthrift nor a “smug,” and he has been neither.

College Expenses.
(a) First outlay
£s.d.£s.d.
Caution money3000
Furniture at a valuation3000
Glass, china, &c.9196
Cap and gown126
Books, sundries, and travelling expenses1000
£81208120
(b) Terminal
Tuition770
Establishment charges600
Room rent3100
Battels, eight weeks, say at £21600
Coals, taking term with term200
Laundress110
£35180
Gratuities to servants200
£37180×9[16] =34120
(c) On taking degree of B.A.500
University Fees.
(a) Matriculation2100
(b) Examination Fees
Responsions100
Moderations1100
Rudiments of Faith and Religion100
Honour School of Jurisprudence1100
(c) On taking degree of B.A.71001500
Extra Tuition.
“Coach” for Moderations10100
Reading party to Switzerland5000
“Coach” for Jurisprudence, six terms, the College paying half, 60 gs.—30 gs.311009200
Personal Expenses.
Wines and groceries7000For three years
Clothes and travelling expenses
Books and stationery
Subscriptions to clubs and societies21000
Extra Academical.
Inner Temple
Entrance form110
Stamps2513
Fees1052
Lecture fees550
£4112541125
Annual fees, four terms at161544

On Thursday morning, having paid to the Dean the necessary College fee, and from him obtained a certificate of twelve terms’ residence, Frank, duly attired in cap and gown, white tie, and the statutable garments “of a subfusc hue,” proceeded to the Apodyterium of the Convocation House. There he paid the University fee, and showed to the Registrar the testamurs gained in Moderations and the Rudiments of Faith and Religion, and a certificate of his having been placed in the second class in the Honour School of Jurisprudence.

These preliminaries over, he met his party and took them into the Convocation House. There, having waited for half an hour, in a crowd that made moving impossible, and speaking almost a difficulty, the impatient spectators were informed that Convocation was removed to the Sheldonian Theatre, a piece of information certainly welcome, but one which they thought might have been given them before.

Perhaps it need not be said that four hearts at least were filled to overflowing as Frank went up with several other Paul’s men to be presented by the Dean to the Vice-Chancellor, and at least one pair of bright eyes shone the brighter for the tears that would rise up in them. And then with what pride Frank slipped on his gown and tipped his scout, William, the customary sovereign, and what a happy party sat down to lunch in Paul’s! Crawford was there, the new Fellow of Queen’s, not yet grown donnish and distant; and little Blue-eyes too was there, who had made firm friends with Rose, with whom she talked with pride of their two lovers.

In the evening the young people went to Nuneham, Rose and Mary sitting in the stern, Blue-eyes in the bows, where she paddled in the water like a very child; Crawford and Frank rowing. Mary had brought her sketching-book, and when they had had tea in the Moss Cottage, and a stroll was proposed, nothing could induce her to accompany the others. She wanted to sketch the rustic bridge and the river, and plenty of time she found for the purpose. For surely never were folks so long as Rose and Frank, Blue-eyes and Crawford, in walking through the lovely Nuneham woods. Like the bright June leaves that hung over them, life was young, and fresh, and bright; sobered, not saddened, by the twilight of earnest thoughts of the work that lay before them. Oxford had done her best for these two sons of hers; had not soured them; had not robbed them of their early faith; had not taught them to posture as the disciples of creeds as meaningless as they are cold and dead; had not inflated them with the notion that Oxford thought leads England and therefore the world; had not elated them with their academical success; but was sending them forth full of energy and full of hope, with the belief that life, that stern hard battle, was beginning and not ending with the winning of a degree.

THE END.